


whumptober: Secret Injury

by whatsanapocalae



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: Blood, Broken Bones, Bruises, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Napping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 22:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21168626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsanapocalae/pseuds/whatsanapocalae
Summary: Francis is acting strange, acting nice, just to get Adam away from him. Luckily Adam doesn't need augmented eyes to see that Francis is hurting.





	whumptober: Secret Injury

It was an odd day, in the fact that it was completely and utterly normal. Sure the world was acting like it was ending, riots and fires in the streets, a civil war between the naturals and augs, but inside Sarif Industries, there was nothing going on. Adam was wandering the halls, considering going through the vents just to make it a little bit more interesting, but then people would think there was an issue and that it was worthwhile to stress out. This was a safe space. He wasn’t going to alter it. 

So he knocked on Francis’ door instead of hacking his way in. It was such a benign issue, a few customers having tried to return parts to a LIMB clinic only to find that their cards were all attached to the same account. For those four it was a big issue, a lack in security and a threat to their identities, but for a corporation like there’s it was hardly anything. It was more Francis’ job that Adam’s. But Adam was the one who knew about it and he’d been asked by Sarif himself to get it dealt with before it went to the press. 

The opacity wasn’t completely up on the windows to Francis’ office, but they were somewhat tinted. It was clear that the man wanted his privacy. He always did. But if he was asleep the windows would be fully darkened and he wouldn’t be able to see him. He was sitting at his desk, leaning forward, curled in on himself. He was working hard on something, his posture got worse the more intense he was. 

“It’s open!” Francis called out and Adam opened the door. It was rarely unlocked. Francis didn’t turn as he entered, his attention fully on his work. “What is it?” 

“Good to see you too, Francis,” Adam cocked his hip, crossing his arms. 

Francis still didn’t turn towards him. “Jensen,” he sounded genuinely surprised though his voice didn’t hold the usual hint of malice. He sounded run down, if anything. Adam had heard him close to exhaustion and far past it many times. This sounded worse, if that was possible. “How can I help you?” 

That stopped him in his tracks. Francis had never asked him that. He’d never been this polite, this cordial. Something was wrong here. Something was different. He pulled his lenses back, took a step forward. He was tempted to turn on his CASIE but he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t use that on friends. 

He and Francis weren’t friends, too many years of dirty water under the bridge, but they weren’t enemies either, nor competitors. He’d tried to be Francis’ friend, not in the beginning but a few years in. Things hadn’t improved much. 

“Careful there, Francis, you’re almost sounding like a human being.” 

There was a slight flinch in Francis’ shoulders, then a tilt of the head, but he was turning even further out of Jensen’s view. 

“Would you get on with it? Some of us have work to do. I thought that, if I asked nicely, you’d spit it out and be on your way.” 

He drew even closer. He didn’t like the idea that Francis was hiding something from him. It was very clear that he was though. He put his hand on the desk and told Francis about the mishap with the LIMB clinic, studying the edge of Francis’ face. He wasn’t looking at his computer, as busy as he seemed to be. He as primarily turned away, not wanting Adam to see his face. His hair looked like it was a mess, shoved back into the band within a rush. His right hand lay limply in his lap. 

“Is that all this is?” Francis sighed. “You could have sent me an email for that.” 

“But then I wouldn’t get to tease you,” Adam smirked. 

That got Francis to turn, to glare at him, but he caught himself before the entirety of his black eye came into view. Still, Adam could see how swollen it was before Francis turned back away from him. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing,” Francis all but spat. “If you were to go back to your office I can get onto this little breach in security for you.” 

He knew Francis didn’t want attention on it, he knew when the man was being stubborn and when he was genuinely wanting to hide away from things. You didn’t know someone for eight years without picking up on that sort of thing. And this, right here and now, was hiding. He didn’t want Adam to know that he was hurting. 

And Adam wasn’t going to let him hide it. 

He put his hand on Francis’ shoulder and the man jumped so hard, curling away from him, and he could see his teeth from how tightly he was grimacing. 

“Let me see?” he tried to sound kind but this was Francis, it was hard not to slip into a voice that sounded like he was pitying. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Francis argued. “You can go be Prince Charming for some other princess.” 

“Heh, I’d like to see whoever’s stupid enough to call you Princess.”

Francis looked at him again. It wasn’t just his eye that was swollen but a swath of his cheek. There was blood on his face too, where it had been wiped away from his nose. He looked a bit of a mess. “You’d be surprised how many times I’ve been called that.”

Adam didn’t need the light to see by, not with his eyes, but in order to get detail it was easier with a lamp on. He pressed the switch under Francis’ desk to get the lights up, so he could see what he was working with. The nose didn’t look broken any and his cheekbones were sharp enough that whoever had hit him there probably hurt themselves more than they did him. 

“You know who did this?” 

Francis shrugged and winced. “Who knows and who cares? Just some punk kids out in the riots.” 

Adam flicked his thumb over the darkening bruise on his cheek, light enough that he barely got a hiss out of Francis. He was telling the truth, probably. He’d never come in like this before. The wince made him nervous though, meant there was more damage that wasn’t on his face. 

“You mind taking off your shirt for me?” he asked. 

“Sorry, I’m not in the mood for a strip tease right now,” Francis sighed. There was supposed to be more of a fight there, more of a bite. 

Adam reached down, grabbed the lapels of Francis’ jacket and started to gently tug it off of him. He didn’t miss the way that Francis bit his lip, how he was looking everywhere except for at Adam, how he shuddered when he got to that shoulder that Francis was favoring. He went slow, tried to be gentle. Even his breath seemed like it was hitting Francis too hard. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Francis wheezed, putting a hand on Jensen’s chest and pushing him gently away. “Don’t you have some walls to push through?”

“I need to see,” Adam pressed, “Or would you prefer I got a medic?”

Francis looked at the floor for a moment just breathing. Eventually he sighed and relaxed a bit more. “You, I guess.” 

“Then you’ve got me,” Adam gripped the jacket a little bit harder and, with one solid tug he pulled it off of Francis’ arm, making him yip in the surprising onslaught of pain. Adam wrapped an arm around the back of his head and pulled him in, burying the unmarred side of Francis’s face against his chest. He shushed him as he ran fingers through his hair, trying to distract him from the pain. 

“I think...” Francis finally breathed. “I think my shoulder’s dislocated.” 

Adam couldn’t see it. Francis was still wearing his turtleneck, but guessing from his reaction to taking off the jacket he agreed. 

He took up the hem of Francis’ shirt. It was both easier and harder to pull it up over his head. He could move it without having to jostle the arm as much but he also had to look at Francis’ chest. There were scars there, ink, a few odd ports, all hidden under more swelling and bright red bruises, too fresh and painful to change to purple and green. There were boot prints where Francis had been kicked so hard that the pattern had made their own distinct bruises. The swelling around those marked ribs were worse that the rest. 

“You’re augmented,” Adam breathed, tracing the outline of a rectangular port right next to Francis’ heart. 

“No, really?” Francis pulled a face and pulled his shirt down along the length of his wounded arm. “I thought they were beating me up for my good looks.” 

Adam could see the gap in Francis’ shoulder, between one joint and the next. He put his hand on the part that had dislocated, remembering the way that the bones were supposed to settle. “This is going to hurt.” 

“I know,” Francis breathed through his nose. 

Francis leaned against his chest, clinging onto him with his uninjured arm. Adam breathed and counted and just before Francis could tense he shoved the limb up and back into the socket. There was another yelp, though Adam doubted their coworkers would be able to ignore this one. He ran his hand down Francis’ shoulder blades and down his back. 

Pain was something that Adam was used to but he didn’t bear the marks of it. They all faded so fast. Francis didn’t have a healing factor; there was only so much a healing hypo would do, mostly topical. Still, he sprayed Francis’ chest down with it, noting how his breathing calmed down once it started to numb him. 

“Come on,” Adam urged, pulling himself up to his full height. He left his hand extended, an invitation. 

Francis stared at it, then up at him. “Where are you taking me?” 

“Over to the couch,” he shrugged, “You need to rest up. I can’t believe you came in today, looking like that.”

Francis wrapped both arms around himself. He shuddered, cold. “I wasn’t going to just come half way, get beat up, and turn around.” 

Adam took off his jacket and extended his hand again. “It’s a slow day, no one’s going to fault you taking it easy.” 

Francis exhaled sharply and there was an expression on his face that was hard for Adam to read. It was hurt yes, but not physical and not directed at anything. There was definitely something wrong with his ribs but this hurt was something even deeper. 

He finally took Adam’s hand and allowed himself to be led to the small couch. It was obvious that he wasn’t expected Adam to lay down and offer his own chest, his own heat, for Francis, but he did. Francis stared at the door and back the invitation before sighing, shaking his head, and laying down as comfortably as he could on top of Adam. The moment the coat was placed on top of both of them he was asleep.


End file.
